I’ve fallen in love again. Last year, it was with Lissa Rankin, whom I don’t love any less now that someone new has come into my life — in fact, Lissa’s ongoing transformation and deepening experience of healing is pure bliss to witness. But this time around, I’ve fallen in love with the words of a woman named Elizabeth Mattis-Namgyel, a Buddhist teacher. (It was bound to happen; this place seems to be chock-full of Buddhists.)
As with Lissa, I’ve not met Elizabeth in person, though I’d love to some day. I’ve encountered her work through her website and her book The Power of an Open Question. There are some people whose light is so clear, so radiant, you love them from the very first moment. Elizabeth, wherever she is, is like that.
Now just to be clear, I claim no understanding of Buddhism. In fact, I’m so bad at acceptance, I expect I’d make a crap Buddhist. Even with as much truth as I felt in the room during that ceremony with the monks this summer, I have to confess I didn’t take their Vow of Compassion, because I’m wary of signing on to other people’s ideologies. And yet, I can’t stop my heart from falling in love when it hears someone speaking truth so clearly.
It was a few years ago now that I first heard the call that would eventually lead me to Boulder and change so much about my life. I knew in that moment, I would follow that call wherever it lead me, let go of whatever I had to let go of, grow however its path required of me. The vow I took that day was the most powerful I’ve ever taken, because it came from within me. I was answering the call of my soul, and I continue to do so every waking moment.
Which leads me back to falling in love. I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about security. We have some deeply entrenched ideas around security in this culture — many of them centered on fundamentally in-secur-able things like money, a home, or possessions. We also create security out of ideas: marriage, The Afterlife, community, and so on. All of which only help us feel secure until reality steps in in the form of death, or natural disaster, or any number of the little surprises life throws at us.
So recently, as I was talking to a friend about all of this, I realized one of the challenges (opportunities?) of this time of “starting over” for me is the chance to honestly sit with the reality that my life is quite insecure right now — and not anesthetizing myself to that fact. While it’s true that I’m fortunate to have found a beautiful home to live in, and clients I care about, and friends who’ve welcomed me into their community, the “security” aspect of my life has changed fundamentally. And as unsettling as the change is, there’s something I dig about it.
I just didn’t know what that something was until Elizabeth showed up. In the Introduction of her book The Power of an Open Question (yeah, I haven’t made it beyond page 2 yet), she talks about the visceral experience of rock climbing, and how engaging with the experience of not knowing what’s next is what creates the thrill of actually being alive. “The state of not-knowing is a riveting place to be,” she says; it reminds us that “change and unpredictability are the very pulse of our existence.”
Change. Unpredictability. Nothing about security there.
And yet…just look for a moment at how much energy we invest in trying to keep unpredictability at bay. In creating our “security” bubbles of hearth, and home, and credit reports, and mammogram appointments, and college funds, and, and, and,…the list goes on as long as we live…. But somewhere inside, we know she’s right: change and unpredictability are the stuff life is made of. As heart-stopping as it is, we know there’s no certainty that life tomorrow will resemble life today. That the people and animals and places I love will be around tomorrow, or that I’ll be in a position to enjoy them.
Deep in our bodies, we know it’s true. And while it can be terrifying to face that much insecurity, it can also be freeing to do so. Because when you can accept that things will change, you don’t have to put every ounce of your energy into hanging onto them. And suddenly, a new kind of security emerges — an understanding that comes from inside, based on adaptability, and acceptance, and flowing with life rather than trying to stop it from happening.
I can’t say I live there all the time, but as I make my way around Boulder, not having any clue as to how all this is going to turn out, I’m finding myself learning to make peace with all this insecurity and just enjoy what is.
With love,
A good traveler has no fixed plans
and is not intent on arrival.
Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize nothing is lacking
the whole world is yours.
~Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching